Like Father Like Son
by SkeletonTree
Summary: Prompt: Harry's Promise to Ginny


_I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters!_

This was actually a prompt by someone who reviewed 'Hey, what's up?', my James/Lily fic but I don't know who they are! Anyway, I took the prompt and so here is my first Harry/Ginny piece.

Please R&R!

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Like Father Like Son - _Harry's broken promise to Ginny_.

She remembered the first time he'd kissed her. In the common room, in front of everyone, his friends, her friends, her brothers. She had to break into a small smile at that memory. It was a Sunday afternoon, it didn't matter what month seeing as they were all the same. Time dragged horribly when your education was being dictated to by a foundation of lies and discrimination. Every day was grey. As if the very soul of Hogwarts had died along with Dumbledore. There was no longer laughter that filled the corridors, but hushed whispers and harsh shouts. To think she once felt at home here. Here where she had her friends, her brothers and Harry.

Ginny curled her toes on the vanished window seat. She had curled herself into her usual spot, looking out onto the Forbidden Forest and the foreboding distance. Her arms hugged her knees as she stared out of the rain smattered window. The dormitory was the only safe place to be, and she was often here, sitting alone and thinking about the one person she wasn't supposed to think about.

She'd banned it, even. Thinking about Harry and what he was likely to be doing at that very moment was all too easy to get lost in. The ban had evidently not lasted long because here she was; red eyes and blotchy cheeks from endless anxious tears. Of course she worried about Ron; but Ron had Hermione, even if he was too stupid to realise it yet. Harry slept alone as she did, if he was still alive. No, he was still alive. She would know in her heart if he wasn't.

She remembered back to the wedding, the brief moments of hands in hair and rough breathy kisses. Her heart warmed with the memory of his hands on her back, pulling her closer. Pulling her knees to her chin, she let out a soft sigh in remembrance…

_Ginny had slunk away from an exceptionally dull conversation between her mother and Mrs Delacour and was now edging around the back tables where it was quieter and she was less lightly to have to speak to anyone. She was an observer and enjoyed overseeing the hustle and bustle than be part of it… even if she did always end up in the midst of things._

_She felt a hand snake around her waist and she glanced behind her. He stood there, awkwardly with that lop-sided smile and untidy hair. She smiled at him and looked about before taking his hand and leading him through the slit in the tent and out into the warm summer evening. He looked at her as she stared ahead into the sunset, her hair illuminated in the hazy dullness of dust. She was beautiful and he couldn't help his fingers brushing against her pale cheek. She looked at him then and smiled, her hand slipping over his and lacing their fingers. She kissed his fingertips, savouring the probably precious moment._

_"Are you afraid?" He asked, after a moment. Ginny looked at him steadily and shook her head._

_"No, not for me."_

_"I don't want you to be afraid for me. I need you to believe in me." His hand squeezed hers as he turned to face her; her eyes large and bright in the dying light._

_"I do believe in you. You're the one, you're… everything." Words failed her as his lips came down on hers with a softness that had never happened before. She was surprised as he pulled away and smiled, brushing his free hand through her hair._

_"I promise that I'll come back."_

He lay in his bunk, staring up into the shadowed folds of the tent, the lantern burning warmly on his bedside. Ron was listening to the radio again, hoping to catch a signal, something, anything to link him to the outside world. It had been the three of them for so long, Harry had almost forgotten that anyone else existed. It was odd to hear other people's familiar voices broadcasting in secret. If there was one voice he missed, it was Ginny's. He felt a wave of sadness fall over him and Harry couldn't sit through another hour of Ron's nervous, agonising twitching and so he had gone to lie down.

It was probably a bad idea, but he was here now and he could stop his mind for a moment and picture Ginny's face, smiling at him in the field. Harry felt his stomach lurch at the image of her smile, her eyes, and her hair. He hated his life bitterly sometimes. He wanted to be normal, to have parents, to grow up knowing who he really was, to have a normal relationship with a girl. Instead he was in a tent in the middle of nowhere, fighting a literal losing battle, without parents and without the girl he loved. It wasn't supposed to be like this at seventeen.

He rolled onto his side, facing the flimsy wall of the tent. His shadow lured up the material in wake of the lantern. His eyes closed as the image started fading. He needed more. Harry regretted deeply not spending more than a few stolen moments with her. He needed her presence, her touch to feel alive and free. He had never felt so light, as if he had no tragic and suffocating reputation when their lips met and she was in his arms.

As quickly as it had come, the feelings spun into regret. He had promised her that he'd come back. But he wasn't so sure now. The endless months of idle apparating and waiting had led him to think over many things and one thing for certain: eventually, he would have to face Voldemort alone. The thought shot dread through him. The sheer panic that he may never see Ginny again washed over him. It was a possibility and a strong one at that. He was fighting a dangerous game and Dumbledore wasn't a comfort blanket anymore. He was alone; Harry Potter must finish this alone.

He had his resolve and he used it to be strong. He wouldn't think about her anymore, he'd push her to the back of his mind. His task to bring down Voldemort was the only thing he was going to think about. He'd promised lots of things, but this was the hardest to break.

"I'm sorry, Ginny." He muttered to himself as he rolled out of his bunk and found his glasses. Pushing them on, he got to his feet and strode across the tent to the door. He flapped the sides apart and went out into the cool night. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He cleared it of her voice, her smile and her heart. He wouldn't be ready to die if he kept her.


End file.
